i was recently told my love feels suffocating. it was brutal. i was withering. Debilitated. Humiliated. and it was also really enlivening. it even felt a little bit exquisite. dare i say it also felt relieving to hear. it brought me to life - remember my heart that's been atrophying for a decade? it became muscular in seconds after hearing the way my lovers was beating when they told me - my love feels suffocating. and you could barely hear it - the heart beating - because remember - i was suffocating everything, including every sound that was trying to surface - there was me - suffocating everything. so there i was sitting on a cold leather couch crouching and combusting and i wanted out of this body. i've always wanted out of this body because moments like this - this combustion - this extreme rising in truth and the requirement for the discernment of it - all occurring in the same moment - it's almost unbearable. Almost. and it's also everything i might want to try and acknowledge. and I hate that. and I love it.
there is this confusion i have - i've always had it and i don't know how not to live without it. not yet. i remember laying on this hillside so close to the sky on the edge of a redwood ocean - the northern california coastline as some like to call it - not me obviously - settled side by side of an almost stranger with long red hair and a long body and i was trying to explain why i thought i was meant to be made of bark or at least rooted in a different shape or at least made of something more resilient more adaptable more grounded more of someone else. and this almost stranger with long red hair and a long body tried to reassure me. i'd eventually come around. i was young. i'd grow into this crouching combusting body.
it's been - it's been 3 years now since i was laying so close to the sky beside the almost stranger with long red hair and a long body and i'm still wondering why i am not a little path of moss or made of bark or rooted in a different shape. i'm still not more resilient more adaptable more grounded more of someone else.
i am here now - still wondering why i ask for love outside of myself. i ask - over and over and over. i whine actually - asking would be putting it kindly - so I whine - others seem to grow this kind of love why can't i? why can't i grow this kind of love? over and over and over - i demand myself to think it doesn't actually exist and i demand that even if it does, what will happen if i experience it. love becomes ugly and it will always be unrequited when i see it like this and it seems i get what i ask for.
i'm rooted in a different shape - crouching and combusting. because that love that i asked for is suffocating the love that i asked for.
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